


Checkered Idol

by Reyanth



Category: B-PROJECT 鼓動＊アンビシャス | B-PROJECT: Kodou Ambitious, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, KitaKore, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9908015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: In the 21st century, the demon once known as Sebastian Michaelis has been contracted by another remarkable young boy and lives the life of a top-notch Japanese idol as Kitakado Tomohisa. In order to accompany Ryuuji on his path to world fame as his contract specifies, Tomo plays the part to perfection, but behind the scenes lie sinister manipulations and scandals that would rock the entertainment world.Stay tuned as the cast of B Pro and the enduring shinigami of Kuroshitsuji make their appearances.





	1. Even So

**Author's Note:**

> After toying with the title Shirokuro Aidoru (Black and White Idol) in a play on "Kuroshitsuji" and "Black Butler" I settled on Checkered Idol for its ring, but you get the idea. White all over, Tomo is truly black at heart—as black as Sebastian. After all, he's one hell of an idol.
> 
> I have a lot of plans for further integration of characters from both fandoms so if your favorite characters haven't shown up yet (particularly from B Pro), give it a few chapters. ;)
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you enjoy chapter 1.

Studying a face that bordered upon angelic in sleep, Tomo tenderly traced the backs of his knuckles over perfect skin. Only in sleep was Ryuuji so honest as to lean into his feather-light touch.

Usually, he was treated to a mixture of deep familiarity and dependent possession. The former was less personal than most would believe; the latter more justified than any could know. Even he didn’t know for sure whether Ryuji truly trusted him or simply trusted that he was well-trained. At least, that was how Tomo imagined he saw it.

Such a sweet and honest child, the size of Ryuuji’s heart had been his greatest weakness. With so much room for love left bare and empty by a fickle mother and faithless father, loneliness had eagerly swelled in that unclaimed space, turning a lovely child into a bitter creature. It was that bitterness that called to Tomo, and when pretty little Ryuuji had demanded a partner on his road to fame, it had seemed like an entertaining way to pass his days, at the least.

Perhaps he had been struck with the strange blend of joy and sorrow that was known as nostalgia. Another child, another interesting demand, another paradox of innocence and darkness all wrapped up in one petite little package…

Even now, he compared them. In all his long existence, he had never known a master as fascinating as that little lord who had driven him mad with spiteful games and delightful tortures. The final feast had been almost as satisfying as he had ever dreamed, but in the end it was a fleeting pleasure. In retrospect, he found that the years of service, the experiences and surprises of the time by Ciel Phantomhive’s side, were the true buffet.

He’d seen some of that boy in Ryuuji and indeed, there were many similarities, but in the end his new master was worth serving in his own right. In many ways, he fell short of the depth of depravity found in Ciel’s sheer malice and dark plots, but these were different times. If Tomo were simply to relive the same life over, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. The creativity and ambition Ryuuji harbored gave Tomo a new perspective from that Sebastian had known. Ryuuji’s brand of domination was one realized through competition and artistry, and thus Tomo’s days were filled with music and beauty.

Ciel had desired a servant to reinforce his status and wealth. Ryuuji required a partner to complement his talents and support his success. In this life, the more prestigious his role, the more beneficial to his master, and so Tomo—as heir to the Kitakado family—inherited all the wealth and medical renown that came with it.

Where Ciel had reveled in flaunting Sebastian’s demonic nature, Ryuuji presented Tomo with the challenge of hiding it completely. The idol scene was no brazen underworld culture. Even the slightest scandal would be disastrous to their goals.

Perhaps the trait most common between Ciel and Ryuuji was their equal predilection for being kidnapped and targeted by all kinds of perverts and criminals. Tomo was frequently dispatching of all sorts, from thugs and stalkers to crime lords and jealous rivals. It was far more difficult to disguise disappearances in this day and age, and the volume of surveillance devices all over the place meant that hiding the evidence and tying up loose ends was far more wearisome than ever before. He did enjoy the challenge, but every so often he thought back to times when photography was a luxury few could afford and videography yet to be conceived of. Then, he could kill with impunity as long as he took care of the mess and disposed of the bodies. It was so much easier to protect his master by erasing the threat in its entirety. These days, there was a lot more ingenuity to it. Bribery, seduction, extortion, and humiliation took a great deal more care in both planning and improvisation, and ensuring silence was often an ongoing endeavor.

He was getting exactly what he had been enticed by upon meeting Ryuuji, though. Life was nothing if not entertaining. He still missed Ciel at times, but he was learning to appreciate Ryuji’s different set of talents and appeal. This contract was a long term deal and he was determined to savor the journey as much as the destination.

As his arm was captured and held hostage in a sleeping embrace he snorted with quiet dignity. If Ryuuji had been possessive as a child, he was far more complicated as a young man. At times he held Tomo on a short leash, unleashing him entirely at others in tests of loyalty that could become tedious. His true nature was clear at present, though―the sleeping boy clinging tightly for fear of being left in solitude.

Tomo wondered when he would wake up to the very human feelings he had begun to develop long ago. Once he did, once he realized he was in love with his demonic consort, how long until he would accept, admit, and finally act upon that truth?

As a bystander, Tomo found the wait interesting. As party to the unfolding drama, he was tempted to fiddle with the script to his ultimate enjoyment.

  
*

1:53am --Are you awake?--  
1:53am --Can you come down to the studio?--

1:54am **Now?**

1:56am --Please.--

1:57am **It’s late. Ryuuji’s sleeping. Can it wait?**

1:57am --Please.--

Tomo knew exactly what must surely have prompted this midnight summoning from a boy he had barely spoken to for two years but it was still highly unorthodox. Having messaged him for the first time in over a year with so little formality as to cross the border toward rudeness, Kazuna was clearly desperate.

“It’s been a while,” Tomo greeted, leaning against the door frame in the entrance to the basement rehearsal studio of their apartment tower. It wasn’t unheard of for people to be practicing there in the middle of the night but it was more often used at such hours as a neutral space for private conversations between residents of the upper floors owned by Daikoku. “How are you?”

Sitting against a stack of mats with his knees curled up, Kazuna stared him down and completely ignored the small talk.

“You must have heard the news,” he said. “About B Pro.”

“Yes, a collaboration between Moons, Kitakore, and Thrive, “ Tomo acknowledged, letting him drive the conversation where he willed; the sooner they could get this out of the way. Closing and locking the door with his back turned, Tomo asked a rather confrontational question. “Is this a problem for you?”

“No…” Such confidence. “Yeah, maybe.” Such vulnerability. “Tomo-”

“Each of our groups is doing well enough,” Tomo began in a lecturing tone as he closed the distance between them. “But B Pro could be just what we all need to go big on an international scale. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do—but you don’t.” The little challenging raise to Kazuna’s chin was almost adorable.

“What a thing to say,” Tomo responded, letting a smirk play at one corner of his mouth and enjoying the way his old friend’s eyes were drawn to it like an addict watching his vice.

“I know you,” Kazuna said eventually as Tomo turned and braced his back against the tall stack of mats, sliding down to the floor beside the vulnerable blond. “You’re not in this for the fame, or the money. All you care about is him.”

“Correct, and what Korekuni Ryuuji wants, I want, so we’ll make this work,” Tomo explained, watching Kazuna side-long. This wasn’t going to be a casual chat to be ended by such a frank statement.

“And if it can’t?”

“It will.”

“Tomo, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Looking at the strawberry blond head now buried in knobbly knees atop long, thin legs, Tomo assessed his options and decided that the friendship card was his best asset. “I’m asking you to.”

“How can you say something like that so easily?” Kazuna moaned, glaring up at Tomo in despair.

“You think I don’t understand but I do. I know exactly how you feel about me—how you’ve always felt. I know exactly where the fault lines in your heart are that crack just a little bit more every time you see or hear of Kitakore and think of me and Ryuuji together. I know exactly how miserable you feel whenever you dwell on the past and wonder what you might have said or done to change fate, thinking, ‘Maybe we could have been Kitamasu instead.’ I know exactly how often you tell yourself we just aren’t meant to be because you’re not worthy of someone like me and hate yourself for still wanting me anyway.” All such cruel things to say; driving Kazuna into a corner and making him feel small and jealous. The stick—then, the carrot. “I also know how your world lights up when we’re near, and how your best inspiration comes when you think about me and what I might say or do. I know you sleep better at night when you sift through every minute detail of every good memory we share. I know you’ll take any excuse to be close to me, even if it means enduring the sight of Ryuji and I together right before your eyes…” He extended a hand, sampling the fine, silky strands of hair that shadowed Kazuna’s down-turned face. “That’s why I know you can do this, and you will.”

“Does it have to be so cruel?”

“No,” Tomo breathed, letting his fingers slide down the smooth skin of Kazuna’s jaw, shaped like the underside of a perfect love heart. “If it will encourage you to help Ryuuji reach his dreams…” He leaned gradually closer as he spoke. “Then it can be much, much more pleasant than you’re imagining.”

By his intention, Kazuna’s imagination was moving on to reflect Tomo’s implications, his body interpreting and responding automatically to the lips already touching to his with that final word. Not once did he consider resisting or putting some space between them. That was the kind of power Tomo had over him.

Only with the parting of the tender kiss did he find the force of will to question Tomo’s intentions.

*

“Why now?” Kazuna sighed, but then his eyes fluttered open and reality reaffirmed itself along with Tomo’s smile. Only he would have known it for the condescending expression it truly was. “No—don’t. I know why,” he grunted, looking away, only to find the attractive symmetry of their forms reflected in the wall mirrors. “For Ryuuji,” he spoke to the reflections.

“Even so,” Tomo responded to the Kazuna in the mirror.

For a long time, Kazuna stared at the two young men who seemed to fit together so naturally. It would be so easy to mistake them for a couple; Tomo’s hand resting so casually on his knee, their lips so subtly moistened and perhaps fuller and redder for the kiss. They looked good together. They were good together.

Life without Tomo had been bland and empty. Now he was facing life alongside Tomo and that could either be a thousand times worse… or potentially an improvement. If the alternative was bitterly standing by while Ryuuji wrapped Tomo up in an impenetrable cocoon, then Kazuna would take whatever morsel of interaction he could wrestle away for himself.

“Even so,” he whispered, focusing with meaningful determination on the Tomo in the mirror.

That Tomo now revealed what most of the world never saw. The bright, charming idol fell away and in his place smirked a sharp, intricate personality endowed with equal measures of creativity, cruelty, and a dark kind of charisma. This was the Tomo that Kazuna had accidentally stumbled across and fallen for so many years ago. This was the real Tomo that existed beyond Ryuuji’s taming influence.

Kazuna watched as Tomo’s hand slipped up the inside of his thigh, caressing skin as loose shorts bunched up at the progress, then gliding over material to palm his crotch. He experienced a strange dual awareness—one of the scene he viewed as an outsider, the other of the intimate sensations of touch and proximity.

He saw his arm move to hold Tomo close as a crown of snow descended upon his neck, and felt the touch of lips and tongue that was shrouded from sight. He arched his neck to allow better access and his eyes closed for a moment, but quickly popped open again so as not to miss any of the view. All the while, Tomo’s left hand rubbed and kneaded a growing bulge and his own eyes stared back at him, losing focus and darkening with lust.

Kazuna took the initiative to remove his own shirt and spared a moment for appreciation of his honed physique. He was in prime condition, as he must be to stay on top of the competition. It was fierce, though—particularly as represented in the boy now exploring the creases and planes of his carved abdominals. As Kazuna slowly lifted the back of a loose t-shirt, his fingers reveled in the feel of the subtle musculature that appeared little by little. As Tomo shifted, little ridges and dips moved, too; his back was alive with every small motion.

Knowing this could end at any time with just one message or phone call from a freshly woken Ryuuji, Kazuna resolved to make the best of it. He threaded his fingers into Tomo’s hair and pushed down, directing that acrobatic tongue away from his tingling nipples and toward a much more urgent indication of his arousal. Tomo chuckled as his lips grazed skin rising and falling with shallow breaths but he acquiesced, tugging down Kazuna’s shorts as he re-positioned himself between splayed thighs.

As pale as Kazuna was, he seemed flawed and off-color in comparison to the pure white of Tomo’s hair that tickled his skin and caused it to blush with shame for its imperfection. Or perhaps that was just the blood rushing to the surface all over his heated body in response to the teasing puffs of breath that lingered over his erection.

What Kazuna saw in the mirror was censored in comparison to what he saw when he looked down to find Tomo’s tongue stretching out to flick over a thin vein pulsing with life and need. Red lips pressed to his flesh and he stifled a groan, lifting his eyes to the mirror again where Tomo’s head sandwiched between his thighs shielded the sordid details from sight.

He let his skull rest back against the mats, his eyelids falling heavily until only his dilated pupils, outlined with tiny, colored rings and framed in white, stared ahead. The rest of his focus was drawn toward more internal observations.

Tomo was a pro at sucking cock. The seal of his lips; riding up and down over stretching, bunching foreskin, sliding down over taut flesh… The persistent suction creating a rising well of ecstatic pressure… The teasing caress of tongue-tip, or provocative press of broad muscle…

“Fucking hell, Tomo!” Kazuna complained, dismayed to be so quickly undone.

The only response was another condescending chuckle that reverberated through Kazuna’s stiff length and pooled in his belly.

“Screw you!” he moaned, ready to give in to the intentional overload of pleasures.

Tomo wasn’t so co-operative, though. He raised his head, beckoning Kazuna’s attention. “You’re not screwing anybody,” he said in that deep, sexy voice that drove fans wild. “But I might… if you behave.”

The next thing Kazuna knew, he was grunting and humming in a valiant effort to restrain the raw cry of release that threatened to roar from his throat. His thighs and back almost cramped as his hips thrust off the floor and the wet heat consuming him spread right down to the base of his twitching, spurting cock.

Panting, he came back down to Earth quite literally with a slap of skin against the hardwood studio floor. There was Tomo, swiping up trails of spit and other fluids with all the decorum of a noble feline.

“To be continued,” he promised, rising from the floor in perfect deportment, his bunched-up shirt unfurling dutifully to cover his physique, seemingly of its own volition.

Splay-legged, soiled, and in a general state of debauchery, Kazuna pleaded with him. “Don’t go!”

Not that he expected his desperate request to be granted. Tomo didn’t even bother to reply before leaving him there, shivering with a sudden chill.

From the moment Tomo had moved on him… Even earlier, when he’d drawn close and begun to employ subtle touches implying promise… Kazuna had known he would end up in this exact situation. Even so…

Even so.

Whether the loneliness was more or less bearable with fragments of hope and appeasement, only time would tell. Whether or not Kazuna could endure this torturous limbo depended entirely on how long Tomo planned to make him wait for another morsel of intimacy.


	2. More's the Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank the Muteki Dangerous game for this sudden wave of inspiration. I'll probably be throwing in tidbits of information gleaned from the game going forward.

Eyes on the door, waiting, Ryuuji didn’t bother feigning sleep when his partner slipped inside with eery silence. Sometimes he could be really creepy... in an oddly beautiful way.  
   
Annoyed by his sense of distraction, Ryuuji glared through the dark at the approaching figure. “Did you sort things out with Masunaga?”  
   
A huff of amusement floated to his ears. “So you peeked at my phone,” Tomo observed with a touch of scorn to his tone.  
   
“As if you didn't leave it on the bed so I would,” Ryuuji grumbled, flicking the glowing item in question away from his fingertips.  
   
“Just because I counted on you to look doesn't mean you should,” scolded Tomo, calmly collecting the phone and placing it neatly on the bedside table before stripping off his shirt and climbing back into bed.  
   
A spark of anger ignited at the demon's attitude and the lingering haze of sleep lifted. “Why not?” Ryuuji snapped, sitting up so he could look down upon the perfect, princely face, so pale it was nearly radiant in the dark. “You belong to me, and so does your phone and anything else in your name.”  
   
The darker shadows that were Tomo's lips shifted into a smiling semblance. “As you say.”  
   
Stifling further futile anger, Ryuuji sat his pillow up against the wall and flopped sideways onto it, still studying what he could make out of Tomo's manner and expression. “Well?”  
   
“I laid out the bread crumbs.”  
   
“And?”  
   
“He's already scrambling after them on hand and knee.”  
   
Masunaga was important. He was the pillar about which Moons gathered with a magnetic kind of force. Without him, the vastly contrasting personalities of the other four members would soon drift apart. Moons needed Masunaga, and thus Ryuuji—and B Project—needed Masunaga. Like it or not, Tomo was the key to his co-operation.  
   
“Good. Don't mess it up,” Ryuuji said coldly, thinking of what crumbs Tomo might have used as bait. He disliked the feeling of disapproval in the pit of his stomach. “Masunaga is the key to good relations with Moons... Leave Thrive to me.”  
   
Sounding unexpectedly arch, Tomo stated, “You and Ashu are as tight as ever, I presume.”  
   
That subtle hint of jealousy toward the close friendship that had been spawned in their Bambi days lifted Ryuuji's spirits. “Green isn't your color,” he cheerfully needled.  
   
Tomo, as he was inclined to do, ignored the barb and went right back to business. “The triangle won't be complete unless Moons and Thrive are bound together just as tightly.”  
   
A yawn warned Ryuuji that the counter had run down on his brief energy burst. He shrugged and snuggled comfortably back into the embrace of mattress, pillows, and blanket. “You said you had a plan,” he mumbled. “Deal with it.”  
   
“Even if it means someone getting hurt?” questioned Tomo, positioning himself by Ryuuji's side and lying still, waiting.  
   
If he thought he could sleep as soundly otherwise, Ryuuji would have denied that subtle, cocky invitation. “As long as B Pro stays together.” As it was, he barely remembered seeking Tomo's bare chest and burrowing into sturdy arms before sleep took him.  
   
*  
   
The next day, it became clear that there were a number of obstacles to Tomo’s plans.  
   
For the first time ever, the collective bodies of Kitakore, Thrive, and Moons came face to face—all 10 idols… all 10 members of B Project (excluding the Jr.s who they would meet later). Aside from living in the same building, most of the members knew each other from their Bambi days, and there were friendships across the groups that had lasted beyond their separate debuts, especially as sometimes two groups had appeared at the same events—but never all three. It was a rare moment, but it wouldn’t remain that way for long. From that day forth, their fates were entwined.  
   
At the encouragement of Yashamaru, the Ganjara representative who would be handling B Project as a collective, the boys introduced themselves one by one, regardless of pre-existing familiarity. Tomo observed them all in turn, noting things he hadn’t been aware of due to time apart. In particular, he hadn’t seen most of the members of Moons in some time, except in passing. Perhaps Kazuna had been avoiding him, or perhaps Daikoku Shuuji had intentionally kept Moons and Kitakore apart. Since he and Ryuuji had debuted, he had only worked with Onzai Momotaro and Nome Tatsuhiro on variety shows and as bit roles in a drama. Seeing them all together, and mostly for the first time in years, he learned a few things.  
   
One annoying observation was that Sekimura Mikado was irrevocably attached to Onzai, and from the varying sense of familiarity and intimacy between them, it wasn't quite an entirely one-sided relationship. That could be problematic. That said, Kaneshiro Goushi of Thrive was right on cue with the brooding puppy-dog eyes Tomo was counting on.   
   
Sekimura was a blip that could be dealt with. The bigger and far more fatal threat lay in Osari Hikaru and his fast-fading health. Moons was going to be short-lived if Tomo's assessment was accurate. Osari needed top class medical attention just to extend his lifespan and give B Pro a chance to do its job. Luckily, that kind of care was right at Tomo's fingertips. Unluckily... it wouldn't save Osari in the long run.  
   
Perhaps unfortunately for Nome, he and Osari were clearly close. Tomo could leave the mothering to the tanned macho—and the seducing, for that matter—but doctoring was another story. Not that Osari could know he was aware of the illness or its seriousness. He would have to handle things delicately.  
   
Meanwhile, with two clear couples in his five-man group, Kazuna's prim, clean, and independent act actually invoked a twinge of pity in Tomo. There was nothing wrong with Kazuna. In fact, he was physically perfect, wildly talented, and a lovely person (minus a tendency toward jealousy). He just happened to have fallen in love with the wrong demon, and as a result, he remained alone... and lonely.  
   
Tomo had no compunctions in using him and casting him aside as suited his plans but he did briely consider a kinder fate in the form of one doe-eyed, blue-haired Casanova. That said, the more he tried to picture it, the more he wanted to chuckle out loud. Those two might just have the least compatible personalities of all three groups combined.   
   
That didn't mean Aizome Kento was off Tomo's radar. Not at all. Ryuuji had said to leave Thrive in his (admittedly capable) hands, but he and Ashu were as famous within Ganjara for their cataclysmic arguments as for their otherwise near inseparability. It couldn't hurt to foster a little more good will with the pop-rock trio... In fact, the way Aizome's eyes lingered after Tomo was caught leering implied it could in fact be a very successful endeavor.  
   
That left the pink-haired brat; clingy, noisy, and cheerful. Tomo would never understand what Ryuuji saw in Ashu Yuuta but whatever it was, Ryuuji was the master, and Tomo would endure the imposition of the pink-haired menace as his master required.  
   
By the time Tomo had finished his assessment of the cliques and couples within the 10-man unit, the formal meeting had ended and many of the members instantly drifted into a mingling mob, playing at catching up. Tomo immediately excused himself, claiming he needed the restroom.  
   
The bait was set.  
   
He continued down the hall to the small studio reserved for recording of demo tracks and the like. There, he looked back with his hand on the knob and watched his target slip out after him, eyes as sharp and focused as a bird of prey's as he stared down the hall at Tomo.  
   
The members of B Project weren't the only ones who mattered to its success. There were others he would have to manage as well... and he happened to have just the means necessary.  
   
*  
   
"Hello, Tomo."  
   
_In the dark, the older man's hands are guided by pure white hair like a beacon and glide down thin yet shapely arms, wrapping about the silhouette as a whole, as if to trap it before it can disippate into the greater shadows._  
   
"Daikoku san."  
   
"It's been a while. How's my brother treating you?"  
   
_His breath is warm, tickling sensitive hairs at the nape of the neck. The sensation stirs equal measures of desire and disgust in the infernal being that wears the princely face of a young man_ — _barely of age at last._  
   
"Like a youth under his protection. Go figure."  
  
_Arms tighten and hands begin to wander, exploring once-familiar terrain that has expanded and gained more firmness and contour over time._  
   
"More's the fool... He doesn't know what he's missing."  
   
"Has anyone ever told you you're despicable?"  
   
_He laughs, pressing his lower body forward until his desire prods at the small of a straight, elegant back._  
   
"Why would they? You're the only one who knows. You, the little boy who snuck into my hotel room, climbed on top of me, woke me up with my dick in your ass, and threatened to blackmail me if I didn't assign you and Korekuni as a two-man unit."  
   
_His hands delve under a loose belt with those words—a belt now tight to bursting due to the intrusion. Fingers curl and massage through a thin layer of material  trapped from above and creating an irresistible tension._  
   
"If I'd known what a pervert you were, I wouldn't have bothered."  
   
"I wasn't, you know. You were beautiful and fascinating but I never would have lain hands on you."  
   
"-He says, hands all over me."  
   
_He kisses the long neck exposed as a white crest tips back to rest on his shoulder. The boy inhabited by a demon has grown and his new height and girth are even greater assets than that of the lithe, elfin form once cherished by a man at odds with the world._  
   
"I've missed you," _he breathes, lipping the gently curved line of a perfect jaw._ "I'll never forgive Atsushi for stealing you away." _He grasps the length jutting demandingly against his rhythmically rubbing palms and begins stroking, material and all. The other hand, he extracts from below and travels upward, under the looser barrier of a shirt, until his fingers bump against the ridge of a nipple that rapidly stiffens at his touch._ "I had it all worked out, you know. You were going to be the centerpiece of Moons, Yuuta and Ryuuji would have cornered the loli-boy market, and Kazuna would have been the innocent temptress to round out Thrive's inherent sex appeal."  
   
_The man is hopelessly in love with the sound of the breathy voice that rises up to his ears, strained and pressured, for all the sarcasm of the words it carries._  
   
"Go on, tell me how badly that's working out for you. I'd love to hear all about how much Thrive and Moons aren't selling."  
   
_He uses his hips to throw the boy off balance, tipping him forward to lean over the soundboard, knocking switches out of their pre-sets. Not giving a damn, he rocks his aching cock against that perfect ass he wants so badly to plow, settling for fantasy and friction as his hand moves quickly and determinedly over a length greater than he remembers._  
   
"Yeah, so your way worked, too," _he admits_  
   
"So will B Project."  
   
_Collapsing further over the equipment, the boy thrusts into his touch, completely consumed in the pursuit of satisfaction without a thought for the man providing it. Though time has passed, the boy does not appear to have changed_ — _not on the inside. The man has no way of knowing that the self-serving habits are typical of a demonic natured reined in only by the orders of its current master._  
  
Shuuji was as captive as he ever had been when several breathy grunts and a shuddering stiffening of back and legs announced the arrival of an orgasm that might have left him searching in the dark for a tissue if Tomo hadn't drawn his hand to those rosy lips and lapped away the evidence.  
   
Not a thing had changed. He wa still at Tomo's mercy.  
   
*  
   
Just before he returned to the meeting room, the click of a door down the hall caught Tomo's attention. Judging by the distance, it was the door to the men's room. Casually, Tomo glanced back to see Daikoku Atsushi standing there in the doorway, frowning at him. Having just emerged from the restroom, he was clearly aware that Tomo had not been where he had said he would be. A moment later, Shuuji breezed out of the recording studio at the far end of the hall and Atsushi's frown deepened from suspicion to concern.  
   
Tossing a little oil on the flames, Tomo shot a skittish look at the man he had just left with pants around his ankles and semen and saliva coated in his pubes, then turned tail and hurried inside the room where his partner waited. An instant later, he wore a mild expression, concealing a satisfied smile at the rift he had just widened. A little competition between the Daikoku brothers wouldn't hurt their ambitions. Before long, Atsushi would be poking around, trying to "save" him from the big bad Shuuji, and Tomo would play the victim in need of consolation and gentle treatment... and sweetly trap his would-be hero into the very role he despised. Then he would have both brothers in the palm of his hand.  
   
Yashamaru was another matter. That man was craftier than he let on and so far seemed immune to the appeal of the beautiful young men who surrounded him. He looked at Ryuuji and Ashu with tolerant but cold eyes, giggling at their antics even while subtly observing Kaneshiro and Aizome, who both seemed caught up in their own thoughts.  
   
Moons were gone. They probably had a booking in the evening.  
   
"We're going to be princes!" Ashu enthused, dancing around with Ryuuji in a poor imitation of a waltz. Social dancing was not his genre and for all that Ryuuji had assumed the female positioning, he was forced to lead his pink-haired companion.  
   
"Perhaps Tomo could give you some lessons in impersonating royalty," suggested Yashamaru, getting to his feet as Tomo entered the circle of chairs set out for the meeting. His subtle derision at Ashu's poor demonstration of the waltz was lost on no-one.  
   
Aizome's gaze turned toward Tomo and then scanned him from toe to tip, as if imagining him in costume as a prince. It was impressive that the playboy even exuded sexuality when contemplating simple amusement—or perhaps he just liked what he was imagining.  
   
Kaneshiro made a sound of disgust. "It's so cliche."  
   
"But not everyone will look like typical princes, right?" said Ryuuji, breaking from the disastrous waltz and drifting naturally toward Tomo.  
   
Ashu pouted. "A prince without sleeves! Am I the only one who thinks Nome will look silly?"  
   
"Probably," Aizome said, with that typical gleam of secret amusement in his voice. "If I had his arms, I'd strip the sleeves off every shirt I own."  
   
"As if you haven't already hemmed all your shirts to show varying amounts of your skinny waist and stomach," Kaneshiro snorted.  
   
"I'm looking forward to the costume arrangement," Tomo announced, smoothly steering away from prickly topics. "I'm sure Ryuuji is going to look adorable."  
   
"Naturally!" Ryuuji huffed.  
   
"How modest you are, Tomo," complimented Yashamaru, studying him with arms crossed and a little tilt to his head. "This whole idea was born because of you, you know—the perfect prince. The CEO insisted on having original costumes made just for this mini live. It will make great material for the fanclub booklet, of course,  and I'm sure the costumes will come in handy down the track as well."  
   
Tomo was saved the bother of a polite response.  
   
"Come on, boys!"  
   
Poking his head in the door, Shuuji favored Yashamaru with a curt nod, then swept up Ryuuji and Tomo with a look. "Your new promo shots just came in. I need you to look them over."  
   
"Bye, Ryuuji!" called Ashu with indomitable cheer.  
   
"See you later," muttered Aizome, meeting Tomo's eyes for several long seconds.  
   
"Bye," grumbled Kaneshiro, still brooding over the royal theme of B Project's first group live.  
   
*

Holding his phone up over his face as he lay on his back in bed, Kento studied the latest PR shots taken for Thrive's upcoming release. He liked the way his fringe fell into his eyes and the cut of the shirt really exaggerated the perfection of his figure. He'd implied that he was jealous of Nome's arms but that was a lie. He didn't have a face that complemented strong musculature. Delicate lines and soft, minimal curves worked in his favor.  
   
It really was shameless of him to start to get hard looking at pictures of himself, though... If he was going to deal with it, he ought to do so with someone else in mind.  
   
Dismissing Yuuta outright and lingering on Goushi only for a second, he found himself thumbing "Kitakore" into the search bar. Adding "Tomohisa" to the terms and switching over to the image tab, he was instantly gratified by an array of pictures that were somehow both innocent and provocative all at once. Kitakado... Tomo... had a way about him like that; a kind of inherent subtext. Somehow, it had gone unnoticed until now.  
   
Kento may have misjudged Tomo. They had worked together on a stage production once but Tomo had played the leading role and Kento had played a character with about ten lines in total. They hardly crossed paths at rehearsal or even backstage. The two times Thrive and Kitakore had appeared at the same concerts, Tomo had been too focused on Ryuuji to really acknowledge other performers.  
   
Suddenly, the dynamic was different.  
   
For the first time, Tomo had seemed to really see his peers and to be interested in them. For the first time, the princely act had given way, letting the tiniest hint of a different Tomo emerge—a sexier Tomo, experienced and shrewd; a Tomo whose suggestive eyes caressed and stoked the fire in the pit of Kento's stomach. Now, having been exposed to it up close, Kento could see that alternate side of Tomo gazing out at him from the pictures.  
   
Experimentally dragging one finger along the length of his clothed erection, Kento suppressed an eager shiver, surprised by his too-swift reaction. It was as if he had been carrying the weight of Tomo's stare with him all afternoon and evening.   
   
Picking a choice image of a shirtless Tomo serving breakfast (a screen shot of a commercial for some kitchen appliance, he thought), Kento placed his phone on the pillow to his right and lay his face cheek-down to look at it as he began caressing his own skin and tracing the outline of his hard cock. Staring at the exquisite figure in the photo, he imagined himself seated at that breakfast table, grabbing Tomo around the hips. In his fantasy, he pulled Tomo down into his lap and earned an adorable expression of surprise... but it didn't sit right. He didn't believe it.   
   
Slipping his fingers inside his pants and fiddling with the slightly moist tip of his erection, he imagined Tomo's surprise giving way to a knowing grin as the prince fell away and a dominating presence emerged. Tomo took hold of Kento's shoulders and pinned them back against the uncomfortably straight back of the chair, angling his hips to press his own bulge into Kento's. Still smiling down at him with a mixture of pleasant interest and concealed knowledge of every sordid thought ever to pass through Kento's head, Tomo ground against him.  
   
The angle, speed, and accuracy with which he moved, the way his hips rose and descended with a perfect wave-like motion... It was probably physically impossible, but Kento's imagination wasn't concerned with such details. He squeezed and rubbed the head of his cock, gliding the fingers of his other hand up and down the length of his shaft from the outside of his pants. He thought of Tomo's abs crunching deliciously with each thrust, and of the look in his eyes eyes growing ever more intense. He thought of Tomo freezing and kissing him hard, then nudging their aligned cocks with ever-more frantic precision. He thought of the grudging little grunted gasp Tomo would make as the sensation rippled through his rigid body.  
   
In the fantasy, that was his undoing... and in reality, the imagining of his undoing was exactly what triggered his ecstasy. Kento knew how sexy he looked when he came and that turned him on more than anything. As his orgasm peaked, he focused on what he imagined Tomo might look like in the throes of passion and his pleasure spiked further at the thought of that momentary loss of control; Tomo with eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, and a vacuum of breath as his diaphragm clamped along with every other muscle in his body.  
   
He desperately wanted to see that, and as he stroked himself down from the edge, Kento let himself believe just for the moment that it was an achievable aspiration. The way Tomo had looked at him earlier... It wasn't so different from that penetrating gaze of his dirty little fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come to think of it, "Muteki Dangerous" is the perfect description for this Sebastian/Tomo hybrid.


	3. Can't Isn't the Same as Shouldn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muteki Dangerous strikes again!

   
It was finally happening. The very reason he had auditioned for Bambi and stayed in Tokyo to train as an idol.   
   
He missed his family, and his sisters most of all, but they were always supportive, sending him packages and money secreted away in cards and pouches. He'd gotten them to stop that once Moons debuted and he had security in his income. With free housing and a lot of meals provided, most of his spending money went toward gifts for his sisters, anyway.  
   
Moons might have been enough for him if all he wanted was to make a living, and his family couldn't have been more proud of him, but his dream was to leave a legacy and B-Pro was the key. He'd always known that this group would be able to reach the stars, and now they were finally setting out on that journey. It wasn't just a meaningless parasol over their heads anymore; B-Project was about to perform for the first time as a unit.  
   
Stifling a cough, Hikaru took a large gulp of water to soothe the tickle. Why did he have to be under the weather on such an important day?  
   
"You ready, Hikaru?"  
   
"Always, Tatsu!" he enthused with a wink, sparing a glance of approval for the middle-eastern themed garb his friend made just as regal as the more traditional outfits the rest of them wore.   
   
Kazuna looked ridiculously at home in a ruby waist coat and white long coat trimmed in thick gold brocade. Hikaru's garb was decorated with tasseled gold shoulder pads. Everyone's trimmings were a little different with deep jeweled tones for accent. Tomo was decked out like a monarch ready to ride with a knotted white kerchief about his neck. Where Kazuna looked accustomed, Tomo looked completely natural as if he wore that fine garb on a daily basis.  
   
Hikaru didn't even realize he was staring until Tomo caught his gaze and shot him a wink. It sent a jolt through his system, a little shot of excitement and adrenaline. He sought out Tatsu to ground him, reaching for his friend's hand without a second thought.  
   
One deep breath later and B Project was running onto the stage in one big line before scattering to their positions in time to the music of the only group song they had that was performance-ready: Eikyuu Paradise.   
   
It was a strange feeling, performing in such a large group. On one hand, there was less opportunity to stand out and show himself off but on the other hand, he felt surrounded by talent and support at all times. The blend of voices and the harmonic breakdown were so unique, Hikaru was sure the crowd would have this song in their heads for hours.  
   
After that, having more solo time in the Moons numbers didn't seem so important as he had expected. It was great to have everyone's eyes on him for a few moments and to see that some of those eyes stayed on him after the fact, but the solidarity and cooperation of Eikyuu Paradise was what stayed with him. He'd never felt more love for every man on that stage and he was proud to be one among them.  
   
Later, after they greeted their new fans, changed, and rolled out...after they showered and ate...most of the members gathered to recap their first group effort.   
Not Hikaru, though. And not Tatsu.  
   
"Look at you, you can hardly lift your head off the pillow. You would have drowned in the bath if I hadn't come looking for you."  
   
"I'm glad you did," Hikaru murmured, raising his arms to Tatsu if not his head.  
   
Obligingly, Tatsu sank into them and scooped Hikaru's head and shoulders into his arms, holding him steady. There was no place more comfortable to Hikaru than those arms.  
   
"I know what you're thinking, but I'm fine. It was just more excitement than usual. I'm tired but that's all," Hikaru promised.  
   
Tatsu's response was to kiss him; a sensuous brushing of lips capped off with a deep hum. "That's not all," he said at last. "It begins with being tired and run down. I know you want to go down and celebrate with the others-"  
   
"Actually, I'd rather celebrate here with you-"  
   
"But what you're going to do is rest," Tatsu insisted, ignoring the suggestion. "You promised me I get to decide when you have to rest and this is one of those times. I know. I know you can do this. I do believe in you. But you have to believe in me, too."  
   
It was hard to argue with him when he was serious like this. He was so genuinely concerned for Hikaru's health that there was no laughing it off, and arguing that he just had the beginnings of a cold would just result in a fight Hikaru was too tired to win. He sighed. "Will you take a nap with me?"  
   
"There's nothing I would rather do," Tatsu replied, smiling softly and pecking him on the lips once more.  
   
They settled into bed together, Tatsu spooned around Hikaru, holding him comfortably and placing a tender kiss between thin shoulder blades before he let his head rest on the pillow. Hikaru was almost instantly overcome with a wave of lethargy, but though his body was tired, his mind still raced with the memory of the day; from the lucky double-yoked egg he'd split that morning to the brilliant grin of a little girl who claimed to be his biggest fan—and probably was, at this point, considering how she giggled wildly when he shook her hand.   
   
There were less innocent highlights, too—two in particular that bothered Hikaru more and more the longer he lay in Tatsu's arms. First, there was that exchange of glances with Tomo... He'd never really thought about Tomo in a romantic light but something about that glance earlier had made him blush. The most disturbing part was that he had never seen it coming.   
   
As for the second matter...  
   
"You're not sleeping," Tatsu pointed out.  
   
"I'm trying," Hikaru replied with a pout.   
   
"What are you thinking about?"  
   
"Everything. The whole day. How much fun it was performing together. Seeing all of those fans gather for B Project—more than we've ever seen just for Moons... The costumes..."  
   
"He looked good, didn't he?"  
   
"...Tomo?"  
   
Tatsu snorted. "If Tomohisa ever looked less than good it would be a sign of the end times. You know who I mean."  
   
He did know. It always baffled him how openly Tatsu acknowledged his rival. Not that there was any question of losing Hikaru. It was just that his heart was split in two. It had been, ever since the moment he first met the charming and beautiful boy who became their group's leader. Not that Hikaru would ever give up Tatsu. It was just hard not to look, and not to dream a little...  
   
"The theme suited him."  
   
"Unlike me!"  
   
Hikaru frowned and rolled to face his friend. How could he laugh at himself like that? "Not traditionally, but I liked your costume," he insisted.  
   
"More than Kazuna's?" Tatsu challenged with raised eyebrows. A moment later, he brought his hand to Hikaru's cheek. "I take that back. I didn't mean it that way. I love you, Hikaru, and I'll never blame you for how you feel about him. I know you love me, too."  
   
Damn him for being so honest and so honorable. "I do," Hikaru whispered, choking back a sudden wave of tears and failing. "What?" he gasped, when Tatsu frowned in silence for a moment too long. "Don't you believe me?"  
   
"Idiot. Of course I do," Tatsu sighed, laying his head back down and gazing on Hikaru as if from far away. "But sometimes I think I'm being selfish."   
   
Hikaru gaped.  
   
Tatsu was oblivious to his incredulity. "Kazuna seems so lonely sometimes. If he only knew how much you cared for him, I wonder if he wouldn't feel the same. Maybe-"  
   
"Are you crazy?" Hikaru finally choked out. "Tatsu, I can't help that I like him but it's just a stupid crush! Kazuna's too..." If he said Kazuna was too good for him, Tatsu would get angry, so he hedged. "He's too dedicated to the job. He's not interested in that sort of thing, least of all me. And even if he was! I wouldn't give you up for the world!"  
   
"Not even for Tomo?" When the chuckle at Hikaru's indignation faded, for the first time, a look of sober seriousness came over Tatsu's features. "If Kazu turned around tomorrow and begged you to be his boyfriend, wouldn't you at least consider it?"  
   
Hikaru shook his head, feeling his spirits drop like a stone. He turned away and pulled the blanket up over him. "I couldn't do that to him," he said. "I wouldn't do it to you, either, if you gave me any choice."  
   
"Don't say that."  
   
He wanted to shrug away the warm whisper at his ear and the strong arms that warmed him, but he didn't have the will or the strength. He was so damn tired.  
   
"You're my Prince Charming," he breathed in apology, not minding how silly it sounded when Tatsu made a pleased hum.  
   
"And you, love, had better be my Sleeping Beauty very soon."  
   
"Or what?"  
   
"Or I'll lock you up in a castle at the heart of a forest of thorns for a thousand years of enforced rest."  
   
Hikaru hated to admit it but that sounded rather appealing. He would have told Tatsu so but he found himself floating in the night sky without a voice and was soon pulled into dream.  
   
*  
   
As tired as he was, Kazuna knew his duty as leader of Moons. He was obligated to socialize after such a successful event, especially since Hikaru, Tatsu, and Mikado were nowhere to be seen. At least he and Momo were there to dutifully clink soda cans with Thrive and Kitakore and pat themselves on the back. There were endless compliments to be made about this dance or that harmony, and how Thrive captivated the crowd and how Kitakore charmed them. There were many platitudes to be said, as well, about the teamwork and success of B Project in their first performance. It wasn't all as empty as Kazuna almost led himself to believe but it was said more from obligation than from eagerness.  
   
Truthfully, Kazuna had a few concerns about the day. He hadn't felt his own performance quite polished enough, particularly in Eikyuu Paradise, and others were even less so. Ashu seemed in great spirits considering how he had almost thrown off the timing for everyone, and Mikado had dropped several parts of the dance. While he would like to think that the nerd was upstairs practicing right now to make up for his mistakes, he knew better. Mikado was almost certainly shut up in his room watching anime or reading some lurid doujin or other.  
   
"Cheer up, Kazu. We have a lot to be proud of," said Tomo quietly, startling Kazuna into looking up from the dark maw of his can of oolong tea. He hadn't noticed Tomo move to sit by his side and he felt afraid for a second, like a fly suddenly greeted by a smiling spider.  
   
"Of course," he agreed, keeping his objections to himself as he had decided to do. "It was a respectable start."  
   
"You really set an example today," Tomo told him, touching his shoulder lightly and looking very handsome with that warm smile pulling up one side of his lips. "The way you hit every note and sang every lyric with confidence helped everybody to relax into the new number."  
   
It was a kind thing to say and Kazuna couldn't quite contradict it. He had worked hard to be on point, knowing that everyone was nervous. He knew that confidence could be just as contagious as nerves so he quelled his own fears and gave the performance his all. He wouldn't have thought that anyone would notice.  
   
But, of course, Tomo was toying with him.  
   
"I almost forgot the lyrics at one point but then I heard your steady voice just ahead of the beat and I was able to come in on time!"  
   
If Momo hadn't been seated across from them in full view, he would have scowled. It was such an obvious lie but what was the point of it?  
   
"You've never forgotten a lyric in your life!" he retorted, trying to keep his tone light although there was enough snap in it to draw Kaneshiro's attention from Tomo's left.  
   
Tomo just laughed. "Must you call me out on a white lie? Fine, it wasn't me, it was Hikaru who looked panicked for a second but I saw the relief in his eyes when you tipped him off. It was smoothly done."  
   
Chagrined, Kazuna nodded. He did remember seeing Hikaru shoot him a laden look that might have been one of gratitude. Bubbly as he was, Hikaru had seemed a bit off, whether it was nerves or a cold. Probably the latter. That would explain why Tatsu had fussed him off to bed like a naughty schoolgirl. He just hoped Tatsu was cautious not to catch whatever it was. The last thing they needed was a cold spreading through Moons.  
   
"We did make a good team," he conceded, resolving to change his attitude. He'd been so on edge around Tomo since that night in the practice studio that he was too quick to put his guard up, especially when he felt like everyone's eyes were on them. They hadn't been alone since then and Tomo hadn't made any comments or advances. It was silly to be so grumpy when they should all be proud of their group debut. "I'm looking forward to getting the balance right and recording the single."  
   
"I think our three groups are too used to relying on our regular members and rehearsing together. What we need is to find time to practice with others," Tomo suggested. For a moment, his stare was intense and Kazuna began to feel warm, but then his eyes flickered aside and he said, "Don't you agree, Kenken?"  
   
"If you want to practice together, you know where to find me," crooned the flirt. Kazuna didn't bother to turn and see him wink. He felt it in Tomo's chuck of the chin and ensuing chuckle.  
   
"I think Tomo has a good point," chimed in Momo, rescuing Kazuna from the awkward moment. "At the very least, we should find time for the tenors, bases, and baris to practice in their various groups."  
   
"Maybe, but focusing too much on practicing your own part doesn't always do everyone good," argued Kaneshiro. "It's important to get a feel for the other parts and how yours meshes with them."  
   
"But you can't make anything out singing in a big group!" complained Yuuta. "I always get lost."  
   
"That's why practicing in small groups with the other parts is important," reasoned Ryuuji. "Just like Tomo says. We should spend more time with each other, putting our parts together with people outside of our own groups."  
   
"I think its important to get to know each other much better than we do now, anyway," Tomo suggested. "We should learn how we sound together, more intimately. Who knows what duets and counterpoints we'll be singing in the future?"  
   
The last was very curiously timed with a brush of Tomo's hand along Kazuna's thigh as he reached toward the table to pick up a fresh can of coke. Kazuna glanced at Tomo as the white-haired beauty opened the lid and took a sip, his steely blue eyes detouring to Kazuna for one long moment full of promise.  
   
Was Tomo saying that he wanted a metaphorical duet together? Was he implying that the romantic landscape might change entirely? Was he inviting Kazuna to shake things up and to fight for him?  
   
The thing was, Kazuna didn't know if he wanted to fight. He didn't know if he could ever win. Rather, he was sure he couldn't. It was cruel of Tomo to keep dangling hope just out of his reach.  
   
"Maybe, but I know Moons will be singing together tomorrow so it's time to turn in. Don't stay too long, Momo," he added, getting to his feet.  
   
"Leaving so soon? That's too bad. I'd hoped to relax together a while longer," said Tomo.  
   
"Leader's right," Momo blessedly agreed, rising as well. "We have a still shoot tomorrow for a commercial and then rehearsal for our EiPa arrangement. I should go up, too."  
   
"Goodnight," Kaneshiro bid them quickly, seeming oddly sad to see them go. The others followed suit, bidding them good night and good luck, their voices fading as Kazuna walked briskly to the elevator, forcing Momo to catch up.  
   
"Don't you think you should try and be nicer to Tomo?" Momo muttered as they stepped into the elevator.  
   
"Don't you think you should mind your own business?" Kazuna growled.  
   
"Kazu, that's not fair. It is my business. It's all of our business."   
   
"Tomo's a big boy."  
   
"Maybe. But I think he likes you."  
   
"Don't be ridiculous. You know he and Ryuuji are together. Everyone knows that."  
   
"That doesn't mean he can't like you."  
   
"It means I can't like him," Kazuna breathed, feeling tight in the chest and as if the whole world was shrinking in on him. Why couldn't Momo just leave it alone?  
   
"Can't isn't the same as shouldn't," Momo told him, pushing past out of the elevator as they reached their floor. He had his key ready and opened up the entrance to Moons' apartment even before Kazuna exited the elevator and crossed the hall.  
   
Refusing to say another word, Kazuna waited for Momo to head into the kitchen before slipping quietly off to his own room and stripping down. He was tired but he intended to take a long, soothing shower to relax his tense muscles... and maybe take care of some other tensions as well.  
   
Once thing was certain; working in such proximity with Tomo was going to keep his sex drive in high gear.  
   
*  
   
Moons might have a full day but Kitakore had the day off and Thrive were scheduled for several interviews but nothing strenuous so the two groups stayed up quite late until Yuuta fell asleep on Korekuni and Goushi was roped into carrying him upstairs. Kento was surprised to see what a mother hen Korekuni could be as he bullied Goushi all the way to the elevator.  
   
Tomo was laughing openly and he seemed in high spirits. Kento had to admit it had been a fun evening, particularly since Kazuna had taken his wet rag act off to bed, although Momotaro's quiet company was unexpectedly missed.  
   
"Just you and me now, Kitakado-san," Kento broached, watching the other young man sidelong. "I hope you won't find my company too dull."  
   
The response was long in coming as Tomo observed him a moment. "Never that," he murmured. "And please, call me Tomo."  
   
"Are you sure you don't need to follow Korekuni-san off to bed?" Kento tested, his eyes all over the handsome face he was now free to study openly.  
   
"Ryuuji—as I hope you'll be comfortable calling him—is quite capable of tucking himself in at night... although I expect he's invited himself to your apartment for a sleepover by now."  
   
"I noticed he and Yuuta have gotten closer lately."  
   
"They've always been good friends. I think they're happy to be working together more."  
   
"And how do you feel about it?"  
   
What Kento had intended was to inquire as to how Tomo felt about his boyfriend spending so much time with someone else... particularly someone who clearly had a crush on him. Frankly, Kento wasn't a fan of the way Korekuni seemed to lead Yuuta on and if there was more to it, well...  
   
Yet Tomo's response ignored the obvious nuance of the question and went straight to answering another. His voice dropped to a deep, quiet tone as he looked straight into Kento's eyes and said, "I'm happy to be working together more, too."  
   
The way he leaned forward just a little, the breathiness in his tone, the secretive expression in his eyes, it was an open invitation. Kento hesitated a moment, thinking of Korekuni, thinking of his mixed feelings about Yuuta's involvement with the latter... and thinking very briefly of Goushi. Then Tomo shifted a breath closer and he forgot what was holding him back, swiftly closing the distance between their lips and kissing the other hard.  
   
Tomo tasted sweet; he'd been drinking coke. It was a surprise, and one that was rather enticing to someone who generally cut sugary things out of his diet altogether. He didn't mind the sweetness when it was on Tomo's lips, though, nor on the tongue that flirted with his own and invited him to take control. He did, forcing his way deeper into Tomo's mouth and pulling Tomo's tongue into his where he sucked on it and massaged it with his own.  
   
Strangely, he'd never felt less in control. It was with confusion that he parted from the kiss, staring into Tomo's eyes as if he could discern the trick that let him feel dominated when he was supposedly pulling all the strings.  
   
"This may be a private building but we still must act with discretion out in the open like this," Tomo scolded suddenly. "I think it's time to call it a night."  
   
Flushed and out of breath, Kento glanced around, nervous that Tomo had spotted someone he hadn't, but there was no-one there. In the next second, he grew angry. Tomo had clearly invited that kiss, practically goading Kento into it. He had no right to act so high and mighty and "call it a night" just when things were getting interesting!  
   
A calm settled in the immediate wake of those volatile thoughts. Kento was well aware that he was being toyed with and he had no intention of letting Tomo get the better of him.  
   
"I'm not afraid of a little adventure, not at this time of night, but I suppose you're right. I need my beauty sleep and Prince Charming needs a Cinderella who'll follow the script."  
   
Despite his cool words, Kento was breathing hard as he walked away, and his breath wasn't all that came hard after he shut his bedroom door for the night and slipped into bed alone.


	4. If the Shoe Fits

"Mika."

"Momotasu?"

Feeling rather predatory in the way he stalked over to the bed and removed the manga from Mikado's hands...and face...Momotaro let his own sense of power wash over him. He was still angry with Kazuna and he needed an outlet. Mikado was more than willing, rising almost gratefully, as Momo fisted his hair and yanked him upright, leaning down into a hard kiss.

As the sleep sloughed from Mikado, he softened the kiss and loosened his hold until his fingers were threaded into soft brown hair. He pulled away and gently removed the awkward glasses that nudged into his face then stuck out his tongue and waited for Mikado's to reach for it. When it did, he sucked it between his lips and gave it the kind of attention that brought to mind far more obscene acts.

"What's gotten into you?" Mikado gasped, his words slurring as he tried to regain control of the tongue that had been commandeered moments ago.

The question tweaked something in him; a kind of recognition. His eyes widened and he shuddered, reviewing the past hour or so in his mind. He could see Mikado following his thoughts and gratefully collapsed into arms that spread for him in welcome. He buried his face in Mikado's shoulder, comforted more by the sentiment than by any poetically soft flesh or calming embrace.

There was no love here. There never had been. Mikado was just a good friend, but he could be a very sexy friend when he wanted to, and he was never opposed to blowing off some steam together. Maybe it was because his heart belonged to a flat, two-dimensional harpy (with a shrill voice and looks too adorable to even be real let alone appealing to a regular man), but he never seemed to get too emotionally attached, either.

Regardless, Mikado's arms were a comfort for the support they offered, and for the understanding they implied. Momo stayed there until the confusion passed.

"Was it that bad?" Mikado asked.

"Leader was angry. He hid it well but he was much angrier than I thought."

"Is that what that was? Anger?"

"A little... But it was something else, too."

"Also from leader?"

"Maybe...but there was a lot going on down there. KenKen... Maybe Goushi... I can never quite tell with Tomo..."

"It's strange how easily you call everyone by their names," Mikado commented.

Momo shrugged. "I know them. Maybe they don't all know me yet, but I know them."

They sat there for a while in a position that might have been awkward but Mikado made it work, holding Momo to him and supporting their weight. After the conversation passed out of the present and into memory, he began dropping little kisses into Momo's hair. At first it was just Momo's breathing that picked up speed but soon he felt warm and knew that his heart was pounding a little harder. His body was accustomed to Mikado's and it reacted to the subtle changes in his lover's, eager to mimic.

He looked up to meet Mikado's eyes. "May I?" he asked.

"Oh, please do," Mikado breathed in a husky voice that accelerated the rise of heat within Momo.

He smiled a little and then started crawling down Mikado's long, lanky torso, going straight for the pajama pants covered in She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Insulted and tugging them down in several bursts. To his delight, Mikado's erection sprung free and he gazed upon it for a moment, appreciating the length and girth that always came as a bit of a surprise.

He smirked up at the man watching him with bated breath and then extended his tongue, flattening it along the underside of the tip. He used his tongue to sway Mikado's impressive arousal up and down a little, flexing and softening the muscle to alternate the subtleties of pressure that Mikado was so sensitive to.

When his lover's breath hitched, Momo slid his tongue downward until he could no longer keep his lips parted. He then wrapped them about Mikado and slowly rose back up until only the very tip remained between his lips. That was when he began to suck, earning a grunt of appreciation.

He was intimately familiar with the shape, size, and feel of this particular appendage and he knew exactly how to manipulate it as quickly or slowly as he wanted. Tonight, he wasn't in the mood for a long, languorous affair. The currents swirling about downstairs had already wound him up and Mikado's cock in his mouth always made him hard.

He sucked and massaged, with lips, tongue, and cheeks until he knew Mikado was on the brink, then he broke the suction with a little pop and a heave of breath. Still struggling to refill his lungs, he raised himself up over Mikado, bracing on one arm. The other, he reached down the length of his body to take hold of his own erect length.

Poised above Mikado, he stared down into eyes like light-soaked emeralds, following every shift of focus, every twitch of the pupils, and he stroked himself hard and fast until he matched Mikado's desperate state of arousal. Then, he planted his hand on the bed and gave in to gravity, crushing their bodies together. Even as he began to grind, Mikado's hard-won control dissolved. His arms wrapped tightly about Momo and he thrust and bucked until they both cried out in unison and spurted in quick succession.

Momo embraced the lethargy that swept through him in the wake of his orgasm and settled into the crook of Mikado's arm. For a little while, he was empty of all but his own wandering thoughts and feelings.

It wasn't that easy, though. Once Mikado's emotions began to creep back in so did all the various strings and threads that had been knotted up within him earlier. He sighed, breaking the spell.

"Will you sleep here?" Mikado asked lightly.

Momo shook his head. "I need to be by myself."

"Wanna shower first?"

Momo smiled. Mikado knew him well. A shower was exactly what he needed; to wash all of the excess emotion away under a stream of hot, soothing water and then sink into his own bed and let the strangers in his mind melt away in dream...

"Will you wash my back?" he asked in invitation.

"I'll worship it," Mikado enthused, rising and pulling Momo up from the brink of sleep with him.

*

Goushi couldn't sleep. Or, rather, he wouldn't. At first, he waited silently in his room for the sound of KenKen's return, pretending to himself that he had any interest in the magazine he held as a prop for an invisible audience. He was his own judge and jury and just as frustration began to get the better of him, it was doused with shame by the click of the entry-way door signaling KenKen's arrival.

At last, Goushi's shoulders relaxed and he finally managed to get absorbed into an interview with the world-famous MUSE. It was was an interesting read and he almost forgot why he had been on edge when he heard the passage of light footsteps leading out of the apartment, followed by another click of the door. Relief that Korekuni had left brought on a yawn. Not that he minded the little starlet hanging around; he just didn't like the lack of professionalism involved in dating or sleeping with other members of the same group. That was why he-

Anyway, Yuuta was too damn volatile to be getting into romantic entanglements. KenKen was bad enough! At least he had the good judgement to leave off flirting with Kitakado and come up to bed.

It wasn't too grueling for Goushi to admit to himself that that had been hard to watch. It wasn't just KenKen, either. Kitakado had Masunaga swinging precariously from a trapeze and sooner or later he was going to fall—sooner for sure if Kitakado took the hands KenKen was stretching out to him.

No matter. KenKen was safely on the ground now. None of it was any of Goushi's business, anyway.

As he was making note of a CD he wanted to check out, advertised in the back of the magazine, a knock at his door startled him. He hadn't heard a single footstep.

"What?" he called.

The knock came again.

"KenKen, I swear, if this is a booty-call-"

To his shock, it wasn't the amorous blue-haired beauty at his door—it was Korekuni.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted in surprise.

"Yuuta's snoring. Do you have any ear plugs I can borrow?"

Goushi frowned. "If it's that bad, maybe you should go back to your own apartment," he pointed out with more than a hint of suggestion.

Korekuni scowled. "Where do you think Aizome went?"

Goushi felt a strange chill coupled with a flush that left him unsettled. "That was KenKen who left?"

"Well it wasn't Father Christmas," Korekuni drawled, rolling his eyes. "Do you have ear plugs, or not?"

Goushi considered a rather rude response but the wind went out of his sails when he realized that Korekuni's foul mood was born of the same reason as his own. He abruptly turned and searched the side pocket of his bag.

"Here," he said, offering a pair of cheap, disposable plugs he kept on hand for napping at the studio, etc. "Hey," he broached, before he even knew what he wanted to say, "How do you know that's where he went?"

"Because I know my partner," Korekuni grumbled, inspecting the earplugs. "And we all know Aizome's proclivities."

With that, he was gone, leaving Goushi to wonder. He didn't do so for long, though. If Korekuni thought Tomo might have extended an invitation, then Goushi didn't doubt KenKen's willingness to accept.

Therefore, long after he shelved the magazine and turned out the light, he lay awake troubled. Why couldn't KenKen have just stayed put?

*

00:54 --Come upstairs. Let's see if the shoe fits.--

Tomohisa was quite the charmer. He left just enough time for Kento to regret giving up so quickly and begin to resign himself to a boring night alone after an unsatisfactory solo climax, and then he tossed a crumb right at Kento's toes.

It didn't take long to decide to re-dress, style his hair again, and then head out. He took the stairs, never resisting a chance to keep himself in top shape, and strolled confidently down the corridor, knowing there was no-one to run into.

When he came to the door of Kitakore's penthouse apartment, he found it wide open. There, in the darkness just beyond the threshold, was an actual glass slipper, strewn with rose petals and floating a small envelope. Bemused, Kento bent down and plucked it up, opening it to find a little card inside.

_Sweet Cinderella_

_The real test is in the living room._   
_With compliments,_

_Prince Charming_

There was a flickering of light inside and Kento followed it, closing the door and carrying the note and the slipper. He heard a peculiar rustling sound and wondered what exactly Tomo was up to.

Come to think of it, did he have a collection of glass slippers just lying around? More likely, it was probably some old prop from a Kitakore video he'd liberated as a souvenir. Either way, he'd certainly found an interesting use for it.

It was a little romantic, Kento had to admit. He hadn't expected these kinds of theatrics.

It turned out, he had no idea what he was in for at all. When he entered the candle-lit living room, he immediately identified the rustling sound. It was audio from some kind of video playing on the big screen TV. It looked like a body cam of sorts. The rustling was the mic brushing against clothes as the wearer walked down a corridor...one of the corridors in their building.

Drifting closer, KenKen found an open bottle and a glass of champagne on the sparkling obsidian surface of the table. The bubbles were still fresh so it can't have been poured too long ago. Perhaps just long enough for someone to head downstairs in the elevator and walk down a corridor. A moment later, the cam zoomed right up on the painted white wood of a door. There was a scraping and scuffling and then a slight creak as the door traveled inward, leading into darkness.

Kento was beginning to suspect this was a live feed and that Tomohisa was the one behind the camera. Even in the dark, he could make out that it wasn't Thrive's apartment. His guess was that it belonged to MoonS or Killer King...but probably MoonS.

He was sure he wouldn't have to wait too long to find out. He sank into the big white couch covered in soft leather and marveled at the lifestyle Tomo and Ryuuji led just two floors up.

Through another door—this one not locked—and then the wearer left the cam behind, seeming to hang it somewhere in view of a double bed in the midst of which dwelled a golden-haired cherub. The cam was top of the line, Kento assumed, considering how well it picked up colors in the semi-darkness. All that lit the room was a dash of moonlight.

He couldn't see clearly enough to really make out any details but it couldn't be anyone other than Kazuna lying there fast asleep...and the one climbing into bed behind him was obviously Tomo. Once he was settled, he switched on the bedside lamp, flooding the cam with color and detail. It was still a rather dim picture but now Kento could see how deeply Kazuna slept, breathing heavily through parted lips, his blankets rising and falling around him. He lay on his side, facing away from the lamp, and Tomo loomed over his shoulder so that the light didn't quite fall on his eyes, allowing him to sleep on.

With some suspicion of what was coming, Kento took a sip of the champagne. He wasn't legally old enough to drink just yet but that had never stopped him as long as he couldn't be caught. Tomo didn't seem much afraid of that at all.

He leaned over Kazuna's face, softly kissing his cheek and slipping the blanket down his body. He was so gentle and subtle about it that the sleeping man never reacted. At first, Kento wondered if this was some sick game that Kazuna would never know about but little by little he began to wake as Tomo's hands roamed over his body and beneath his pajamas. The moment he came fully awake was easily discernible. He gasped and jerked, then bucked right into Tomo's stroking fist.

"Shhh," Tomo hushed him. "You did well today. Now it's time for your reward."

Kento suddenly realized that the mic on the camera was incredibly sensitive. The rustling against clothing had seemed so loud because it picked up even slight noises to a very clear degree. Tomo can't have spoken very loud but Kento could make out every word.

_The real test is in the living room._

The note made it clear that this little show was at least partially for his benefit and he was expected to give it his full attention. The odd thing was, Kento didn't feel much impetus to resist. He was somewhat jealous of Kazuna and disturbed by this side of Tomo he had never predicted but he was also rather turned on and intrigued as to where it all led. He drank more champagne and kept a close eye on the screen, very lightly running his thumb over his crotch.

By the time Tomo was pounding Kazuna into the mattress like a jockey riding an obedient stallion, he was fully exposed and stroking himself hard and fast in appreciation of the view. His second masturbatory release (in as many hours) was timed perfectly to Kazuna's but he froze, riveted, waiting for Tomo to follow soon after. It must have been a trick of the dim light or a glitch in the camera but it seemed as if Tomo's eyes glowed red as a low rasp of breath commemorated his ecstasy. A moment later, his lips quirked in a devilish smile, his eyes right on the camera.

Trembling in response to that smile, Kento took one last gulp of the champagne he had already refilled twice. He set the glass down on the table with a tinkling smack and then flopped back into the couch, raising his soiled hand to his face. Unashamed, he licked it clean, waiting and watching as the cam assumed an eerie bodily perspective once more and retraced its steps.

Hastily, Kento closed his pants, smoothed down his clothes, fixed his slightly sweat-dampened bangs, and stood. He met Tomo at the door.

"Not exactly how I'd remembered the story," he said, aiming for cool and casual but finding the words a little too rushed. Damn it all to hell but Tomo actually made him nervous.

"You don't strike me as the type to enjoy the same old boring story over and over again," Tomo responded, easing past him into the apartment.

As he moved, Kento engaged in the other direction until they were watching one another from either side of the doorway. "Goodnight, Tomo," he said quietly.

"I hope it was," Tomo drawled, showing off that smile of his that was both warm and lazy all at once. He was infuriatingly good at casual flirting.

*  
The sound of the door creaking open yet again took Goushi by surprise. He hadn't expected KenKen to return until early morning.

Curious, and a little concerned, he pushed back the covers and flicked on the light, opening up his own door. He leaned in the doorway, letting the light spill out and softly brighten the shadows around KenKen's skulking silhouette.

"KenKen," he murmured.

"Go to sleep, Goushi."

"If I could, don't you think I would have done already?"

"Unless that's an invitation, it's none of my business," KenKen retorted, tilting into the wall.

Frowning, Goushi took a few steps and reached for KenKen's shoulder. He scented the strong odor of champagne before he was even within touching distance, and whatever he'd intended to say flew right out of his head.

"Are you ok? Why didn't you stay upstairs? You need some water."

The predictable reaction was to be shoved off and snapped at, but predictability wasn't KenKen's preferred style. He turned sharply, bracing himself against the wall beside Goushi's head—it was essentially a kabe-don, for all that he needed the wall to balance after that quick spin.

"Aren't you going to scold me?" he asked, sounding perfectly sober in that deep, sexy tone that often made his prey feel they were done for. "Aren't you going to tell me it's unprofessional to fraternize within the group? ...Everyone's already doing it, you know. Everyone but you and me. You can hold yourself to whatever impossible standards you like but don't expect me to deny myself, too."

Goushi childishly wanted to point out that KenKen was the one to bring up the old argument, not him. Then KenKen's champagne breath wafted into his nostrils and he remembered it was pointless to argue with a drunk man.

"Suit yourself," he muttered. "You wanna start screwing someone who sends you home drunk in the middle of the night so his boyfriend doesn't see you in the morning, be my guest."

"I didn't sleep with him...but now I have your permission, I think I will."

Goushi gaped as KenKen swaggered off to his own door. He was the only person Goushi knew who would calmly think to scold, "I don't need your permission!" by so elegantly (and without traceable sarcasm) making a point of that (unnecessary) permission offering him redundant freedom.

Feeling like an ass even as he fumed, Goushi stomped back to bed. He tried to clench out the regret at the thought that he could have KenKen if he just relaxed his self-imposed regulations a little. He tried not to pointlessly wonder if he had just screwed up those chances completely. He tried not to wonder what had gone on upstairs if there wasn't actually sex involved. Had KenKen taken his standards to heart? Was that why he hadn't...?

Tired of his perpetual purgatory of want and self-denial, and also just plain tired, Goushi let his mind go to that rare, guilty place... The one where he didn't deny his desire for KenKen. The one where they were together and it was everything Goushi could ever hope for without any sign of his fears.

At last, relaxing into the wonderful fantasy-land, Goushi drifted off to sleep.

*

If his pillow was damp in the morning, KenKen told himself it was sweat from the heat drink had brought to his face. What did he care if Goushi thought he was a shameless slut? He was. What did he care if the distance between them kept lengthening? What did he care if Tomohisa was playing with him like some shiny new toy? He could handle it. He rose, showered, primped, and smiled for the mirror. There was work to be done.


	5. Naughty and Nice

" Thank you...my sweet honey."

3

2

1

The TALK button lit up in red and a moment later the director's voice came through the headphones, giving Tomo the OK. He thanked the staff, removed the headphones, and exited the recording booth before adding another round of gratitude platitudes.

The short sound bite would play at random when fans purchased a ticket from B Project's fanclub website. Ryuuji had recorded one as well. They were the first to do so. He presumed the other groups wouldn't be far behind.

In just under 30 minutes, Tomo was required on a radio show together with Kazuna and Kaneshiro. Luckily, the studio was nearby. He would have just enough time for a warm beverage to keep his vocal cords lubricated before the live interview.

"Tomo, buy me a snack on your way home," Ryuuji ordered as he slipped his earphones in, already on his way out the door. "Don't be late."

That was code, of course, to indicate that Ryuuji was in the mood for a little kink once the day was done. Tomo smirked. Ashu must be quite the frustration.

For all the time Ryuuji spent with the other young idol, they mostly just made out a lot. Yuuta was still quite immature, whereas Ryuuji had grown up years ago. His problem was not with physicality, but with open emotion. Thus, Yuuta's needy, talkative nature was sometimes difficult for him to deal with.

Tomo looked forward to the evening, but there was fun to be had in the afternoon, too. It started when he arrived and greeted his fellow leaders along with Osari and Sekimura who had tagged along.

Kaneshiro blatantly ignored him and rose from his seat, walking with pointed determination toward the booth they were to stand by in, as if to point out how close to air-time Tomo had arrived. Kazuna, on the other hand, stared at him for far too long before belatedly mumbling a greeting—an odd reaction that Hikaru immediately called him out on.

It had been a couple of days since Tomo's midnight visit to his room but he was still a mess of shy confusion. Meanwhile, Kaneshiro's jealousy was evident in his attitude, also stemming from the night of their first BPro performance.

The show went smoothly enough, for all the tension crackling between the mismatched trio. Tomo sighed internally with the knowledge that the three leaders would likely be grouped together like this off and on for the rest of their careers. Mix in Fudo from Killer King, whose history with Kaneshiro was as rocky as they come, and they would soon be quite the dormant explosive just waiting for a spark.

Kazuna would settle eventually, one way or another, which left Kaneshiro to be dealt with. It was going to cost Tomo in pride...

"Kaneshiro-san, may I speak with you?" he asked once they had filed out of the booth.

"Huh? Why the formality?"

"May I?"

"Yeah, fine. I guess. Bye guys," he told the members of MoonS, who had a little time to kill before being picked up by a mini bus headed out of town. "I booked a studio nearby to get in some practice, so let's head there."

"Perfect."

Tomo gave Kazuna a long, laden look in farewell. He was rather amused by the blush that sprang to those pale cheeks.

At the studio, Tomo, settled into a chair and watched Kaneshiro unpack his guitar. He almost seemed to have forgotten why Tomo was there but then he gave the strings an investigatory strum to check the tuning and finally spoke.

"Well?" he prompted, still gazing down at the neck as he tighted the g string.

"Firt of all, I apologize for my tardiness," Tomo conceded, despite not actually having been late at all. "Next time I have a tight booking overlap, I'll be sure to arrange for refreshment in advance. However, when I asked to speak with you, it was because I get the impression you might have something to say to me."

"Are you kidding me...? Because if you actually wanna go there, I won't hold back."

"By all means," Tomo encouraged. "We're both parts of the same whole now. If we can't speak openly with one another it will be a short-lived venture."

"Is that what you told Aizome when you dragged him up to your room in the middle of the night? Is that what you'll say to Korekuni when his patience wears thin? Don't even get me started on him and Ashu."

"I assure you, there's nothing to fear where Ryuji is concerned. As for Kento...I think you'll find he's not made of glass. Would you have him locked up in a tower like some helpless princess?" Tomo laughed, imagining it. "He'd go mad with frustration in a week! He's not built for abstinence."

"Who said anything about abstinence? It's not about that! It's...Aizome can go hump whoever he likes, just not you! Or anyone else in B Project, for that matter. What's the point of all our hard work if we just tear ourselves apart?"

"My, you really have wound yourself into a tizzy with all these childish rules you've imposed upon yourself."

"Childish-?"

"Exactly. Why don't you try growing up and joining us adults in the real world? I'm sure Kento would welcome you with open arms."

"Like I want your sloppy leftovers."

The only one hurt by that harsh insult was Kaneshiro himself and they both knew it.

"I didn't say I was done with him," Tomo responded with a mild smirk. "But I've never had any trouble sharing."

Goushi clenched his jaw, biting back another pointless insult. He calmed outwardly after a moment but his eyes smouldered and he had the neck of the guitar in a death-grip. "I used to think you were the model of perfection. I used to look up to you. I thought you followed all the rules and did all the right things to be the best performer you could be." How wounded, how betrayed he looked in that moment; a vulnerability Tomo had never imagined. "You're one of the people who made me change my mind about being an idol... But now..."

"Now...? Now you know I'm smarter than that?" Tomo punctuated the point with a short, sharp laugh. "Kaneshiro... Goushi... What's the point of following someone else's rules? I set my own rules, and I follow them because they have meaning. Think about it this way... There's no correct answer for us. It's all a catch 22. You think it's unprofessional to mix business with pleasure? To risk a falling out within the group because of a failed romance? Don't think I don't know why, and we'll get to that in a moment...but you're wrong. The worst thing any idol can do is to be with an outsider. Man or woman; fan, industry, or unrelated entirely... Any person we chose will be a risk to our reputation in some way, and at risk themselves. There is no logic to jealousy. So, what? We spend our lives alone? That won't work, and you know it better than most. We can't bottle up our desires and hope they will go away. Besides, how can we sing about love, or act out romance or passion when we don't know what it feels like...? So where does that leave us?"

"Are you trying to convince me that keeping it in the group is-"

"Our best and only option? Absolutely. Who can we trust with our affairs if not each other? What partners would inspire the least jealousy if our fans were ever to learn we're not entirely green virgins? Who is willing to put this group first at the expenses of personal pride over past relations or differences of opinions...? Take you and Akane, for example."

"A...kane...?"

"Don't play the fool. It doesn't become you. Of course I know."

"Know what?"

"Childhood friends who got a little too close, couldn't handle the heat, and had a falling out."

"What are you-"

"That's the real story, of course. That's why Akane's debut was postponed—why Kilker King was formed around him instead. He begged and pleaded with Daikoku Shuuji to release him from Thrive."

"...What?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Then you probably didn't know that Shuuji only agreed to it for a price."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That's for you and Akane to discuss. I suggest you grow a pair and deal with your issues while your at it... And when you've made your peace and come to terms with your misguided prigishness, maybe Kento will be willing to forgive you... Or there's always that other secret crush. Well, not so secret, I suppose. You can't keep much from a psychic."

"Fuck you, Kitakado."

"Is that an invitation? ...My point is, it's time for a new perspective. If you want me to give it to you, I might just oblige, but only if you ease that stick out first."

Kaneshiro's palm slammed down flat on the face of the guitar, earning a jarring twang, and he grimmaced. "What the hell did you come here for? To pick a fight?"

"...To end one before it begins."

Tomo stood and drew close to the angry musician. He ran one finger along the F string from neck to belly.

"My relationship with Kento is not your problem. Nor is my history with Ryuji or what's going on between he and Yuuta. Nome and Hikaru, Momo and Mikado, Shuuji and Akane, those twisted twins... None of us are your problem. You're the one holding yourself back with excuses. Set yourself free and I think you'll find life to be somewhat more livable."

Knowing exactly how much it would piss Kaneshiro off even while the little boy in his heart thrilled at the comforting gesture, Tomo smiled gently and patted Kaneshiro on the head, then turned and left.

*

Every time he closed his eyes, he was there; there was warm flesh flush against his own, a soft hand caressing his most sensitive cylinder of skin pulled taut, a wet tongue flattened against his neck and dragging slowly upward...

Yet again, he opened his eyes to a bland reality, only to shiver with the absence of sensation and let his lashes float down once more.

Tomo's touch burned, his breath trickled frost upon overheated skin, and his soft laughter danced in the night. He was an enigma, and Kazuna couldn't get enough.

At first, when he had woken, he had been surprised at how rapidly the swell of panic receded. He had never known the embrace of those strong, elegant arms before, yet somehow he did know them.

Anger was even shorter lived than fear. He was too captive to Tomo's touch to reject it, and too grateful for the gift. He arched wantonly into the rhythmic stroke that had lured him from his dreams.

He did briefly consider, then, that he was dreaming...but what did it matter? If he was, he would eventually wake, against his wishes. If not...

If not, then the desire he had harbored since he learned that two men could have sex with one another was coming true at last. He dared not spoil it with questions.

Beneath the broiling excitement, a specter of fear haunted him; fear of physical discomfort, fear of emotional wreckage, and fear of the phantom malice that lurked within his long-desired lover. It put a spin on his arousal that threatened the outskirts of his sanity.

The bus humped over some obstacle but even the hard jostle wasn't enough to pull Kazuna from his illusory memory. There, Tomo was the one who jostled his body, pulling him up against a finely muscled chest and shifting him like a large puppet. He landed face down, staring at the boring beige carpet at the foot of the bed. He liked it. It reminded him of himself.

When Tomo's finger wormed inside of him, he gasped and clenched, trembling uncontrollably. It was an instinctive reaction to the sense of powerlessness that swept through him with the intrusion.

"Relax, honey. Never forget to smile for the cameras."

Damn Tomo and his endless perfectionism! Damn himself for needing to respond to that challenge.

Focusing on the silken lull of the voice at his ear, he breathed out in a slow, deliberate release of tension. Once he was completely relaxed, he lay limp, schooling himself to remain that way as Tomo's fingers had their way with him.

If his fans knew that this was who he really was they would abandon him for sure. Idols were not slaves to desire, or love, or selfish wants. Idols were not slaves, period. Yet that was exactly what Kazuna was; slave to his endless want for a man who would never love him.

That had never been more clear than it was as he stared blearily at the boring beige carpet, rocking violently under the drive of Tomo's swinging hips. His head spun and his blood boiled. He was wrapped up in an agony of pleasure.

His fingers clenched in the blanket spilling over the edge of the mattress. He was going to soil it when he... Tomo would never listen, never care. Besides, Kazuna didn't want him to stop, not ever.

He cried out once, unbidden, as ecstacy leaped within him, and hastily clenched his teeth to mute the sound. He was so close... again. How could Tomo still be breathing easy and keeping a steady pace when Kazuna was about to go mad with pleasure? Just imagining the stoic expression of the man thrusting powerfully into his core was his undoing.

Burying his face in the blanket, Kazuna moaned long and...too loud for his liking, as his hips jerked and he spurted into the soft, padded linen he was going to have to handwash before he went back to sleep.

Breathless and wracked with sudden exhaustion, he craned his neck to try and see Tomo's face. All he saw was the result of a short circuit in his brain. Not enough oxygen, sudden inertia due to the angle... His eyes caught only a flash of red in the darkness as warm, wet heat permeated his nether regions.

"Leader, rise and shine! We're here!"

Startled, Kazuna looked up to find Hikaru standing over him, filling the aisle. He simply stared, dumbfounded, as the intense reminiscence faded into vague memory.

Hikaru looked toward the door and then back at him, and Kazuna realized that everyone else had already disembarked. Trust Hikaru to look out for him like this. He really was very caring.

"When I have, uh, problems...you know what I think about? Toast. Burnt toast. Blackened to a crisp. It's kinda weird, but it works, you know? Go on, try it. I'll stall."

Hikaru dashed off down the aisle to waylay the bus driver as she was standing with a stretch. He started plying the poor woman with questions.

A little surprised by the forward attitude but also very grateful, Kazuna took a deep breath and willed his erection away. He didn't think about toast, nor did he close his eyes, lest the illusion resurface. Instead, he started reciting the first lyrics that came to mind, which were—thankfully—far from sexy.

It helped. He managed to get up and rescue Hikaru, together exiting the vehicle and apologizing to their group for the delay.

There was work to be done. Kazuna couldn't afford to dwell on what had passed, and especially not the part he was avoiding contemplating at all... Tomo's swift exit and his lack of interest in communicating ever since.

They were out in Saitama for a late-night spot on a local radio program. Though limited in range of broadcast, it was a popular show and worth more exposure than the earlier B Project slot. MoonS had quickly distinguished themselves for their quick banter and reliable personalities. Kazuna was proud of them for that, even if regular radio spots amounted to a lower profile than the variety TV Kitakore had begun to land.

If he wanted MoonS to stay on par with Kitakore as rivals even while they all pooled their effort toward B Pro, these radio shows were key, and they demanded his focus. He looked around at the four faces of his fellow members and felt a little uplifting tug in his solar plexus.

"Ok, guys, let's stay focused and put our charm on the table."

"You got it, leader!"

"I'm not-"

"Leader..."

"Well put, leader."

"Toonk! What a commanding aura!"

"Come on. Let's go," Kazuna sighed. He'd argue the point another day.

*

"You're late."

The cat-o-nine-tails flicked ominously against the leather of the couch where Ryuji sat, bristling with impatience.

"Yes, Master," Tomo intoned, dropping to both knees before the boy in a practiced motion of subservience.

"You disobeyed my orders."

"Yes, Master."

Never mind that his defiance was all part of the game. Never mind that he had been hard at work for Ryuji's cause.

The pocket-sized idol extended his foot, toes pointed. Tom took it between his hands and leaned in to kiss the top of it. He could feel the mark of their pact, burning with an otherworldly tingle, on the sole of Ruji's foot, flaring slightly at his touch.

"Well? What have you brought me?"

Burying his predatory instinct to smile, Tomo carefully set down Ryuji's foot and began to unpack a box from the unobtrusive shopping bag he had set down at his side. He held the box up in offering but Ryuji gestured him to continue. He did.

The mask was a work of art. Thick bars of leather settled over Tom's face in a grid; the largest covering his eyes, another sitting across his cheeks and nose, the last lining his chin, and four vertical bars shaping the structure to his head. Before fastening the clasps at the back, he tugged on a thinner strip hanging to his right, fitting the small tongue halter over his appendage and molding the rest of the mouthpiece against his lips. He securded the leather strip to a bolt on the left and then reach up over his head to fasten the bands from the top down. He had fit it well. It sat comfortably without pinching the skin.

The deal he had with a former would-be kidnapper and sex trader was lucrative enough to ensure loyalty, while the evidence he had on the woman was compelling enough to guaruntee secrecy. The tea shop she operated out of was a truly brilliant cover.

Ryuji was done inspecting his treat. With a little huff of contempt, he yanked on the excess leather of the central bar, drawing it tight enough to cut into the skin over time. It wasn't as if he had to worry about marking Tomo's face. Demons had nothing going for them if not perpetually flawless skin. Tomo had endured cuts, burns, and all manner of bruises, always turning up in pristine condition for his scheduled appearances and appointments.

Once all of the pieces were tightened to Ryuji's satisfaction, he bent down and licked the rim of Tomo's ear.

"You've been naughty today. Don't expect me to be nice."

Tomo could barely grunt, let alone speak. As feeble a response as it was, he bowed his head as far as it would go, tugging the mask to it's limit and feeling the skin under his left eye give way to the biting leather.

He was jerked up and shoved face first into the couch. He feared he was going to need to replace the decor of the entire living room after this exploit. Good thing he'd already gained a reputation for whimsical redecoration.


End file.
